


like the ever-changing ocean

by Arzani



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, Sexual Tension, Surprise Characters - Freeform, Surprise relationships - Freeform, Surprising Revelations, at least somewhat, but if you know me not that much of a surprise, will be tagged as the story proceeds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-01-26 02:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12546824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: She stopped mid-sentence when something clattered, wine and shards scattering around her feet and Mihawk paled. “No!” he exclaimed, unusually breathless.Perona asks Mihawk if he wants to be her captain. His answer changes her world-view.





	1. be my captain

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a verse that I came up, but never wrote done, yet. I plan to, but explain accordingly as the story proceeds.  
> Also Mihawk/Perona is too underrated in this fandom. We need more Mihawk/Perona fics.

Stars sprinkled the dark night sky, clattering it like a diamond filled velvet. Sleep hadn’t tonight. The moon was a round, shimmering something, hanging like a yellow big wheel of cheese over those familiar trees and mountains she had become so fond of over the last two years. The stars were easily seen, no lanterns distracted from their light and it were a beautiful night, if there hadn’t been a feeling in her chest, that pressed her down. A sigh left Perona’s soft lips and her body turned to the door she had stepped out from. Coldness seeped through the thin fabric of her night gown, the stone of the balcony cold and damp against her skin.

She had come back to Kuraigana three weeks ago and despite all her fears Mihawk had accepted her without any complaint. No big words had been needed to show her that he had almost expected her return. A simple smile and a “Welcome back” had shown her he would not throw her out, which had been nagging her all the way back. Instead they had fallen into their daily routine, only slightly changed to adapt to Zoro’s missing presence.

Soft wind played with her pink hair and made her shiver. She should have brought a blanket, or a coat. It would be only a few steps to walk back into her room and get herself one, yet she didn’t want to move. A clenching feeling of uncertainty held her at her current place. It was so unfamiliar that it was hard for Perona to decipher what it actually meant.

Feelings… she had never really been good with feelings that threw her off. She was used to get what she wanted. Or had been used to it. Two years did a lot to a person and the Ghost Princess knew she had grown up and had changed due to her stay with Mihawk. It wasn’t the realization she had become more than a bratty girl that bothered her. Moria had been like a father to her, but every child left home one day. In reality, she wasn’t sure if this was her final destination.

To wrap her arms around her body, against the coldness from both the night air and within her soul, didn’t help against the shudder. The only one who could answer the question stealing her sleep since she had come back was a man who was currently sleeping in his room, oblivious to the nagging thoughts in her head. Why was it so hard for Perona to just walk up to Mihawk and ask him? Her eyes looked to the moon when she turned back. One of her ghosts pushed back a strand that had fallen into her face. It didn’t work.

“Tomorrow I’ll ask him if I’m allowed to call this my home. Tomorrow I’ll ask if he accepts me,” she mumbled. Once this decision was firm in her mind tiredness caught up to her. Lids as heavy as sinking stones in the ocean told her she better went to sleep. She would need the energy to actually ask him. Not because she feared the discussion, but because she feared not being brave enough to start it.

* * *

Perona announced herself with a low knock and waited silently until a deep voice called her in. She imagined to have heard a little surprise in it, but maybe that was just her mind playing tricks on her. It wasn’t too farfetched with her trembling hands. Feeling them sweat, she wiped her fingers on her dress in an attempt to dry them. Only then she opened the heavy, wooden door to the office.

Two yellow eyes caught her gaze and made the girl gulp down the lump in her throat. She had waited the whole day, had always searched for the best moment and had never found it. In the end, she had admitted that there would be no best moment, just the moment she made her move and asked what she wanted to ask.

Mihawk sat behind his large desk, several papers in front of him. Different handwritings showed Perona it was correspondence with more than one person and she assumed another meeting of the Schichibukai would happen soon. Until now she had never attended one, but hoped to do so, soon. If Mihawk accepted her.

Sinewy fingers put a quill back into its holding, arranged the loose stacks to neat piles and ran through striking black hair. Then Mihawk gestured towards her to sit down on the empty stool at the other side of the desk, as if waiting for her to be claimed. Her dress played around her legs while she made her way into the room and took in the interior. It was simple furniture but every piece exclusive and elegant. Prominently next to the desk and chairs was a couch and a coffee table, as well as several cupboards. The sinking sun illuminated everything in an orange light.

“You look pale. Are you alright?” Mihawk asked, breaking the silence that had developed, when Perona finally sat and sunk into the cushions of the large stool. She sucked in a breath, rose her hand and made the two ghosts that floated in the air disappear. Then she rearranged the folds of her black frilled dress, before she looked up. The irritation in Mihawk’s yellow eyes was hard to miss.

Gulping the last bits of fear down, Perona sat a little straighter and cleared her voice, before she managed to smile. It calmed her nerves more than it was supposed to, when she realized Mihawk smiled back. “I wanted to ask you something,” she started, and a nod showed her she should go on. Encouraged by the gesture she continued, “I’m back here for three weeks now, and, you know…”

She trailed off, stopped and started anew, now from a different angle, glad he didn’t interrupt her. “I love it here. I never believed something other than Thriller Bark could be my home, but Kuraigana managed. Yet, it’s not my home unless you approve, too. I never asked you if it’s okay to be here and…”

She was unable to continue but it wasn’t needed, as Mihawk ended her sentence for her. “And now you do,” he stated, his voice not giving away what he thought. It wasn’t unfamiliar to Perona, so she nodded, glad he understood.

His hand reached for the wine glass that stood at the edge of his desk, filled with a crimson liquid. In a graceful gesture he sipped from the wine like a king would, and her eyes followed each movement. It distracted her from her anxiety over his answer. Every second he wasn’t telling her yes or no was ripping her poor heart apart.

A last drop clung to his lower lip, which he swiped away with his thumb. His hand covered half of his face, but when it was gone, the wine glass loosely held on his knee, it revealed a sly smirk.

“I didn’t think you would actually ask,” Mihawk replied slowly and then stood up, to walk around the desk, glass still in hand, until he stood next to Perona’s stool. She looked up into his face. His free hand brushed a strand out of her face, and in contrary to the previous night this time the touch was real, soothing and full of love. “The moment you came back, and I allowed you to walk through the door, this place became your home, Perona. It will be, as long as you wish it to be, with or without me around.”

Several heavy stones dropped from her heart and suddenly her chest felt light, lighter than it had since she had come back to the island. Pink lips smiled brightly, and dark eyes shimmered in the dim light, revealing her gratitude. With a push Perona pressed herself off the stool, not able to hide the grin. From nowhere her ghosts appeared under the roof, flying from here to there all mirroring her grin.

“Thank you,” she laughed and stood tiptoe to press a kiss on Mihawk’s cheek, feeling bold, caused by the answer she had received. It was the light feeling which spread from her stomach to the farthest part of her body that made her say the next words without thinking about them. “Does that mean you’re my captain now? Because I actually wouldn’t mi-.”

She stopped mid-sentence when something clattered, wine and shards scattering around her feet and Mihawk paled. “No!” he exclaimed, unusually breathless. The reaction irritated the girl that much, she suddenly laughed.

“It’s just a glass,” she said and stepped out of the mess, looking at her now ruined shoes. It didn’t really matter, it was a reason to buy new ones and maybe she would find some that were even cuter. “I’ll get a mop,” she added, heading for the door. The move seemed to pull Mihawk back into reality, because his hand was at her shoulder and held her back. His expression was apologetic, almost sad and her hands, that had been in the air, fell back to her side.

“Mihawk?” she asked, her heart clenching in her chest when she realized that his ‘no’ had not been a reaction to the dropped wine.

“Sit down, please.”

She did as she was told and walked to the couch because the stool was too close to the puddle of wine for her liking. The soft cushions seemed to suck her in and she slipped to the edge of the couch, ready to stand up at any moment. Her eyes never left the man who had stepped away from the stool, too, but hadn’t sat down. Pacing up and down, Mihawk seemed to realize his odd behavior as well, because in the end he opted for the armrest of an armchair.

“I can’t be your captain,” he said lowly after a moment of silence and Perona sat a little straighter, not getting what those words meant. It didn’t feel like a rejection, if it were, he’d have picked different words. Words like he didn’t want to be. Words like he didn’t feel like it. Any other words that didn’t indicate something didn’t allow him to be one.

“Why? It’s not against the Government’s interest for a Schichibukai to have a crew,” she said after she had considered the possible reasons for his behavior. “I know you never indicated that you want one, but that shouldn’t stop you from changing your mind. Also, I know the rules, I have lived long enough under a Schichibukai’s care to fit into the social hierarchy.”

With a swipe of her petite hand she pushed the locks of her pink hair back and her head lifted a little, showing perfectly well that she considered herself ladylike enough to fit into any status, was it a Schishibukai’s one, a king’s or marine’s. To her surprise it made Mihawk laugh lowly, easing the tension that had built. He shook his head at her stance and lowered himself from the arm rest into the chair, his expression softening.

“Believe me, if it were the marines’ or the world government’s rules I wouldn’t care at all about them.”

His voice was firm and steady, and it impressed Perona to hear him talk so openly against the people he worked for. As if her question and his answer from earlier had opened a door. She realized Mihawk had let down another wall she had never been aware was there. Something deeper laid bare before her, another Mihawk Dracule revealed, one she hadn’t known yet. To her own surprise it didn’t scare her, only drew her closer to him.

“So the reason is not because you don’t want me?” she asked, and his answer came promptly. So promptly that she didn’t have time to fear it.

“No, Perona, no that is not the reason.”

This time she pushed herself off her seat to walk towards him. Only a few steps were needed to cross the distance and Mihawk’s legs opened for her, to give her room and let her even closer. Warmth was radiating off him and yellow eyes pierced into her black ones. In the beginning of her stay they had been intimidating, now they made her feel safe. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, bold words slipping from her throat as she said, “Then tell me what is.”

With a sigh Mihawk’s back hit the cushions and his hands loosely held her thighs. By moving them up to her hips he made her shudder. Yet, it almost felt like a loss when he pulled them away to rub his eyes, revealing he was quite tired. Then he considered her critically, as if he was searching for something. His gaze stopped at her face which still looked down at him.

“Answer me a question beforehand. Tell me if you really want to stay even though it will be dangerous? Even when things change for the worse, when it means that I won’t be a Schichibukai anymore and the World Government wants your head.”

The deep sound that reached her ears told Perona that Mihawk didn’t say those words because he meant them rhetorically. He believed in every syllable he said which was probably why he had kept it a secret until now. The thought that the Marines suddenly wanted her head, after so many years of walking around freely, being a pirate, but also not being wanted, was scary. But at the same time, she had to think of Zoro. The green-haired idiot had a dream and he fought for it to become real, no matter if Marines wanted his head or not. And she thought of how Mihawk had pushed him further with his training even though it meant his own defeat.

Leaning down to his eye level, she smirked into his face, grinned smugly and reveled in the sight of Mihawk’ raising eyebrow. “As long as you make sure I don’t end up in Impel Down I don’t care. Those prisoner’s clothes are so uncute.”

Sudden laughter exploded in the room, Mihawk’s body shaking while he held his stomach. It died down, though, when Perona straightened again and the man followed her movement. Standing up, his expressions became serious and Perona realized just how much taller he was. His hands landed on her shoulder and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. Then he leaned in even more to whisper into her ears. “Pack some clothes, you will get your answers, but not from me.”

* * *

They weren’t at sea for long, a few hours, not more. The sun was bright at the horizon, the gloomy atmosphere completely gone since they had left Kuraigana behind. Instead the sun was burning hotly and Perona feared for her light skin. A sunburn was the last thing she wanted, and she didn’t understand why Mihawk hadn’t installed a proper roof or some hut on his boat. At least she had her own chair, after she had complained quite a bit in the last two years. She had gone with the swordsman to do groceries and go shopping quite often, so he had given in.

With a plop she opened her umbrella and used it to protect herself from the sunrays. Mihawk had told her he wasn’t sure how long it would take them to reach their destination and this little information, as well as the rest she had been given, had helped her to reach a conclusion. She had had the whole night to think it over because they had delayed the start of their journey until next day. It was uncomfortable to travel in the middle of the night, as the tomb boat wasn’t suitable for it. They would anchor at different islands and sleep in taverns or hotels.

“We’re heading for a ship, am I right?” Perona said suddenly, looking at the ocean that was so deadly, yet beautiful. Touched by the sun, the water laid like a carpet of thousand diamonds before her, precious and unattainable for the devil’s fruit user she was.

Mihawk turned his head towards her and lifted one eyebrow. Returning the look without flinching, Perona waited patiently until the man closed his eyes and smiled, almost fondly. “You sure are hard to be fooled,” he said and indirectly proved she was right.

A soft wind tousled her hair and Perona had to grip her umbrella a little tighter, so it didn’t fly away. She didn’t wear her hat, knowing well it would fall off her head all the time while being at sea. Stretching herself, she nuzzled into her chair after and watched as Mihawk stood to walk to the back where they kept their luggage. She didn’t want to turn, so she didn’t know what he was doing but she felt his presence behind her. Some rummaging noises told her he looked for something. Steps announced he came back after he had found whatever he had been searching.

“May I,” he asked, and she looked up, tilted her head backwards to look into his face. His hand was tugging at her umbrella and she let go of it after she realized he wanted it. With interest Perona watched him bind the handle to her chair and after a moment it was efficiently staying in place, to block the sun without her having to hold it the whole time.

When Mihawk was back in his seat he slipped one hand into one of his pants’ pockets and a white paper was revealed. It lay open on his palm and twitched continuously into the same direction, a little bow side from where they were sailing to. Before the wind could take it, as it had tried to take the umbrella, Mihawk closed his hand and placed it back to where he had gotten it from.

Perona had watched silently, and didn’t give it much attention when the boat changed its course as if by an invisible hand. She had gotten used to it by now, never really interested in how this kind of steering worked. She would never step onto the boat without Mihawk anyway. The chance to fall into the water and drown scared her too much.

“This is your captain’s vivre card, am I right?” Perona asked after she realized they were on course again. Mihawk didn’t even look at her when he answered.

“You are so nosy.”

She snorted, and the sound drew Mihawk’s attention on her. His hawk-like eyes pierced into hers, held her gaze and she suddenly felt like he reached into her soul. Or maybe it was the other way round?

“What I’m about to reveal will change you, Perona. It will change what you think of this world, what you think of the system you live in and it will change what you think of me.” His voice had a sharp edge. Yet she stood up and was somehow reminded of the encounter in his work room, where she had done the exact same. When she was between his legs and leaned down to his eye level, she wondered when she had become this bold.

“You already changed me and I am still here.”

This time warm fingers caressed her cheek as he mumbled, “Yeah, and I still wonder why.”

And suddenly her heart beat too fast, her knees became weak and his wonderful eyes seemed the only thing in this world. They shone brighter than the sea around them, more precious and even more dangerous. She drowned in them, like she would in any ocean.

* * *

It was their fifth day and therefore their fifth stop on another island, when finding an accommodation became quite hard. Usually the two of them would find the next hotel, rent two single rooms, check in and then have time on their own until they met up to have dinner together. Perona enjoyed those stays in different villages, as she had a chance to buy herself even more cute clothes, but also to see places she had never seen before. She was aware that Mihawk was a man who needed time on his own. The fear to become utterly annoying after a while, because she was far from patient and to sit on a boat for the whole day didn’t help, didn’t become reality. Mihawk had set a slow pace and around midday they anchored at yet another island at least.

Mihawk wasn’t short on money either, so they could be picky on their rooms for the night, and when Perona had stepped onto the island she was certain it would be the same today. Her hopes shattered even before they walked into the first hotel. Colorful banners and lanterns, too many people and music that sounded from afar told her there were festivities going on. The city was quite beautiful, but the mass of people gave her the lingering feeling that finding a vacant room would be hard.

After the fourth hotel that had told them they couldn’t help it but they were full, Perona knew she was right. She groaned at her hurting feet, and a headache started to form from the constant buzz of chatting and celebrating people. The bag she carried weighted heavy on her shoulder. Next to her walked Mihawk, who had become quieter with each decline and she feared that the next person who told them they didn’t have a room would lose their head. A whine left her lips. She had stopped complaining hours ago to save her breath and the strap of her bag slipped down. Before it could drop however it was taken by Mihawk who shouldered the bag himself.

“Thank you,” Perona said genuinely grateful and Mihawk nodded.

“We will have to lower our standards for today.” His eyes darted around. They had wanted to check another hotel, one the last owner had recommended, but both had doubts any room to be free. Instead Perona spotted a Tavern close by and pulled at Mihawk’s sleeve.

“Let’s see if they can help. I’m getting hungry anyway and if I have to walk any further my feet will kill me,” she complained and marched forward, knowing Mihawk would follow her. When she opened the door loud and false singing washed over her and increased her headache tenfold. A low pained sound left her mouth but was left unheard over the noise. Her hollows flew around her, ready to take everyone down that came too close, but it wasn’t needed when Mihawk stepped next to her. Anyone who had even considered touching that beautiful young woman or trying to flirt with her, driven by too much alcohol, stepped back at the sight of the Schichibukai. It was easy to get to the counter.

A small but bulky man greeted them warily, aware that every pair of eyes was on the strange pair. In his hand was a cloth he had used to dry tankards, but put it away now, to have his hands free.

“How can I help you, Mister?” he asked, and his voice wavered a little. To his defense though nothing of it showed in his stance.

“Do you have by any chance free rooms?” Mihawk asked and some of the tension vanished when the guests of the tavern realized that their arrival didn’t mean trouble. Many went back to what they had been doing before, yet Perona was glad the noises had died down a little.

The man scratched his stomach, and Perona wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight, yet realized it wouldn’t help them to make him feel like a worm. She only huffed at him because he needed so much time to answer, no matter only mere seconds had passed.

“I have one, as one of my reservations didn’t show up. It’s a double bed. The rest is full,” he said and eyed both Mihawk and Perona with his dull eyes. At least he was smart enough to not make a smug remark, even though Perona could read in his eyes he wanted to. His smirk showed what he was thinking. Not the filthy thoughts about Mihawk and her bothered Perona, but that this man would take them to bed. She knew he would think of them, the next time he would lay hand on himself and just the thought made her want to puke. It was disgusting to be the object of another one’s shameless desire. Especially of such an uncute brute.

“We can look for something else,” Mihawk said after he realized Perona wouldn’t answer as he had expected. It snapped the ghost princess out of her absent state and she turned to her companion, raising her eyebrow at his suggestion. The way Mihawk eyed their surroundings and his appearance made clear he wanted to stay here as much as she did, but she was also aware they wouldn’t find another accommodation.

“We have to do with this if you don’t want to kill some of the guests in the other hotels to get a free room,” she said and then looked at the tavern’s owner who was already looking for the key. “But if there are bugs in the room, feel free to test Yoru on him.”

Paling, the man straightened in less than a second, mumbled something of preparing and scurried up the stairs, which obviously lead to the rooms. Several pair of eyes followed him.

“I would like to say this wasn’t needed, but the way he rushed up, I have the fear it was,” was the dry reply Perona got, which made her cross her arms. She knew why she said what she had said.

“At least now I know we eat somewhere else!”

* * *

That day Mihawk and Perona didn’t spend any time alone. For one because it was too late and they both had been hungry after looking for a room that long, and because they decided to take part in the festivities together, too. After a dinner that compensated their poor accommodation, both headed towards the city center.

Several booths stood next to each other, people praised their goods and music filled the air. At the end of the marketplace stood a stage, a band played jazz music and some of the visitors even danced along.

Even though they had eaten a while ago, Perona managed to talk Mihawk into trying roasted almonds, while she herself had picked a skewer of chocolate fruits for herself. The pink frosting had made the decision easy.

Chewing on a banana, she spotted a haunted house. It didn’t look very frightening to her, with Kuraigana being gloomier than this hut could ever be. Still, she was drawn to it, her eyes gleaming at the sight. Several people stood in a queue, waiting for their turn but the good thing about being with a Schishibukai was that most queues just disappeared at his sight.

“I am not going with you into this,” Mihawk said suddenly when he realized the longing in her eyes and Perona immediately made a face. She wanted to even whine a little, when a small boy pointed at her. Or to be more precise over her.

“Mommy is that a ghost?” he asked his mother who stood behind him, holding a balloon in her hand. It was supposed to be a ghost, too, yet looked rather ridiculous compared to her hollows.

“No darling, ghosts don’t exist. It surely is a balloon, as is yours,” she said and even added, “And stop pointing at the woman, it’s not ni-,” she said and stopped abruptly when said ‘balloon’ shot towards her, to stop only inches from her face and stick out its tongue. She screamed in horror before the ghost disappeared and it seemed like nothing had happened.

A sound like a dry huff turned Perona’s attention back to Mihawk who smirked just slightly, his hands buried deep in his coat’s pockets. “That’s why going into a haunted house with you would be ridiculous.”

* * *

The festivities were far from over and low noises, drunken singing and music seeped into their room. Turning on the light, the bulb flickered for a moment before damp and grayish light illuminated the room. The large bed was dominant, the sheets clean and white. Surely the tavern’s owner had changed them earlier. The rest of the furniture looked rather rugged, a small table and two stools, a mirror, a wardrobe and two nightstands the only other interior. Another door led to the bathroom.

“I had already forgotten we have to stay here,” Mihawk mumbled next to Perona before he stepped in. They wanted to get off the island early in the morning, so going to bed early seemed a good idea. The door clicked when it closed.

“It’s one night. We will survive.” Perona sat down carelessly and already rummaged through her luggage to find the toiletries she needed, as well as her night gown. Only when she found the piece she realized it was next to nothing, a thin fabric that would give away a lot more than she had realized until now. A small blush appeared on her cheeks when her eyes darted to the double bed but she fought it down and rushed to the bathroom. “I’m going to change.”

While she brushed her teeth, and combed her pink curls, she tried to not think of the night. The idea to sleep next to Mihawk didn’t offend her. In fact, she looked forward to it, to having his warm body next to hers and feel his breath grow soft. It was a pleasant thought, comforting and warm. Too warm for her liking, she realized, because she couldn’t really decipher anymore what exactly she felt for the man. He had said this journey, this meeting with his captain, would change her way of thinking towards him. Now she realized it had already started.

Exhaling, she realized all her thoughts didn’t help. Giving into the exhaustion she stepped out of the bathroom. Immediately her eyes fell on Mihawk’s naked back, broad muscles revealed his strength. Only clad in his pair of trousers, he looked like a half-god, unfit for the surroundings they were in. His other clothes hung neatly over the backrest of one of the chairs, indicating he was readying himself for bed, too.

Perona gathered her thoughts, before she cleared her throat to give away she was back and Mihawk turned. His eyes darted over her figure – just for a mere moment – but it was enough to make a chill run down her spine. Then his yellow eyes rested back on her face. “You can go into the bathroom now,” she said, and he nodded. As he moved to the door, she walked to the bed to sit on it.

For a while she simply listened to the noises coming through the wall, then she leaned back and snuggled into the cushions. Exhaustion hindered her from thinking too much about the situation and she gave into the heaviness of it. Her lids dropped.

A creak told her the door opened and without looking she shifted to make more space. Only when the awaited feeling of a solid body next to her was left out she opened her eyes.

Mihawk stood in the middle of the room, seemingly unable to decide what to do. It was odd to see such uncertainty on his usually stoic face. While studying him for a little while longer, his abs and the collarbone that was prominently visible, Perona realized she liked what she saw. The man only wore light pants and his cross-necklace. A yawn left the girl’s lips, sleep pulling at her. “Come to bed, will ya,” she mumbled and even pulled the blanket back.

The invitation was taken as such and eventually Mihawk moved. The light flickered before it went out, then he walked over. The mattress bent under the pressure as he sat down, before he lied next to her. Without much thought Perona closed the little gap between them, snuggled at his chest and placed her arms between them. A leg pulled her even closer, their feet intertwining, and a chin was placed on her hair. She could feel soft breathing on her scalp and yawned again. Already fast asleep, the last thing Perona took in were arms around her petite frame, and a soft mumble wishing her a good night.

* * *

Soft lips caressed hers and usually piercing eyes met hers warmly. Sighing into the mouth, she moved her hands around his head to pull him closer. Her body wanted more of him, heat stirred in her stomach and found its way in between her legs.

“Mihawk,” she moaned, when he returned a more and more roughly becoming kiss. With every second passing she ached for more. A hand gripped her shoulder, turned her and shook her body. And shook her body and shook her body.

Her lids fluttered open and she jerked, her body tense and highly aroused from the dream that had filled her mind. It took a while before she realized it was the actual man she had dreamed about that had woken her. His scent, a reminder of the night, filled her, wood, steel and something so animalistic it made her heart beat even faster. What happened to her?

“Are you alright? You have called out in your sleep,” Mihawk told her and thankfully straightened. His words made her blush, because she knew exactly what and why she had called out. Biting her lip, she shook her head to indicate nothing was wrong and took a breath to calm herself.

“It was just a dream,” Perona told him and as she let her eyes wander over him, she realized he was fully dressed. Sometimes the woman wondered if he slept at all. Dim light filtered through the windows and showed it was barely morning. Actually she would have loved to sleep a little longer, but now as she was awake they could move on. No need to stay longer than needed in this tavern. “Are we heading on?”

A little smirk appeared on Mihawk’s lips and Perona cursed her fluttering heart, wondering what this dream had done to her. She was no love-struck fool and she didn’t want to become one. Liking Mihawk or not.

“You want to sail on before breakfast?” he asked her innocently. As an answer Perona gripped the pillow and threw it at him. It didn’t have much of an effect, because he dodged it and it hit the wall. While he chuckled, Perona threw her tousled-up hair back.

“You better serve me croissants and coffee on a silvery tray, or else I throw you into the ocean,” she stated adamantly, even though she knew this would not happen. To her surprise, though, she was pressed back into the sheets when she wanted to stand up. It made her look up to him with big, round eyes. “What…?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to eat breakfast in bed? Give me the chance to get it. I’m not looking forward to taking a swim,” he murmured, and the blush reappeared on Perona’s cheeks. The why was unclear to her. Probably because both were aware she would never be able to push Mihawk in the ocean if he didn’t want it… and because he had meant it, when he had stated to get her breakfast.

“That is really…,” she started, but before she could finish the sentence, Mihawk did.

“…cute?”

By now Perona was sure Mihawk did it all just to mock her but her smile was hard to hide. While rearranging his pillow under her – her own still lay on the floor - she couldn’t deny that she felt like the princess she always claimed to be. When she laid back she was given another warm, almost amused look, before Mihawk walked out of the room and let Perona enjoy the warmth that filled her chest. When had the cold, arrogant Schichibukai changed into this wonderful person she knew she started to fall in love with? Probably when she had stopped to be the bratty, self-centered girl she used to be. It was a nice change for both sides.


	2. revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not betaed, forgive me

Her eyes fluttered open when a low knock reached her ears. At first, she couldn’t really get where she was and what happened. Her back ached, her limbs were stiff, and she felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Then she realized she had dozed off in her chair, still being on sea.

It was dark around her, some candles and a lantern spent light, yet it wasn’t much. Straightening, something slipped off her body and she automatically gripped for it. Someone had covered her with a blanket, the brown fabric had kept her warm. It was much needed in the chilly night air.

Mihawk had wanted to quit their usual stop without telling her why. Yet, Perona trusted him enough to not complain. After another three days going by as usual she could feel they were close. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light she realized the hull of the ship they had docked at. Some rustling told her Mihawk was behind her.

Steps announced him and while he walked back to her, she slipped off her stool, but kept the blanket around her shoulders to stay warm. Yellow eyes gazed at her, but she didn’t respond. Instead she tried to see the Jolly Roger, but it was hard in the darkness. The ship was not just a small sloop. This ship was huge.

Red shimmering wood reflected the play of the lantern and gave the whole scenario an unreal feeling. Why had no one realized their arrival? A ship this huge surely had a night watch.

“Do they know we’re coming?” she asked into the silence and finally turned to look at the swordsman. Just like her, he had been looking up, but now focused on her small frame wrapped in the blanket. A smile played on his lips, yet it was tense.

“No,” he answered after a moment and sighed. The sharpness of his expressions made place for his exhaustion. For a moment he seemed almost frail, but that must be a play of light. Mihawk Dracule was not frail. This man was the world’s greatest swordsman. There was no room for weakness. Yet, a small voice in her head reminded her he was only human, too and for her to see it was a display of trust.

As quick as the expression showed on his face, though, it was gone again. He stepped closer to her. “They won’t throw a ladder it seems. Hold tight.”

With those words he placed an arm around her waist, pulled her close and jumped. The surprised shout stuck in throat and she hid her face in his chest. His scent filled her nostrils. It had a calming effect and the panic subsided. Before she could think too much about it, she felt secure planks under her feet.

Opening her eyes, she just now realized she had closed them. When she looked around, she could see an empty deck. Several ropes hung from the railing, barrels stood near the mast and doors lead into the inside. It was the lowest level of the ship and her gaze wandered higher and higher, seeing sails and lanterns and the Jolly Roger, that waved in the wind. It was a normal skull with two swords behind it and three parallel scars over the left eye. She paled.

The realization of whose ship this was made her step back automatically. A coldness gripped her that could only be described as plain fear and the urge to run rose in her chest. They were dead. This was suicide. They were completely and unmistakably dead. Why…

“Calm down,” a voice mumbled, and hands were placed on her shoulders. With big round eyes she turned, tried not to scream. Instead she looked into Mihawk’s face, who held her gaze with his. “Breathe!”

She did. She inhaled and exhaled and inhaled and exhaled until she managed to grasp a normal thought.

Steps announced someone coming closer and again she tensed, gripped the fabric of Mihawk’s sleeves. Her panic was back, filling her mind, but before she could do anything, her grip was softly but firmly released. Mihawk stepped around her to stand in front of her, and somehow the gesture helped to not freak completely. In case of this ending in a fight he would protect her. He had pushed himself in between her and whoever was coming towards them. He was with her even in this dangerous moment.

A tall figure appeared from a shadow and the dim light highlighted the slender frame. It was a man, smaller than Mihawk, with black dreadlocks, a coat playing around his body and a frown on his irritated face. He regarded her, brows furrowed and then turned to Mihawk.

“You didn’t tell her.”

The voice sounded accusatory yet friendly enough which surprised the girl. A part of her brain still couldn’t believe she stood face to face with a member of a Yonko’s crew and still be alive. This was Redhair Shanks’ ship, the Jolly Roger too known to be mistaken. But… it couldn’t be!

“Would you have believed me in her place?” Mihawk replied, as calm as ever. Out of the corner of her eye she could see how he had risen an eyebrow. A small laughter drew her attention back to the other man, though, who shook his head amusedly.

“Probably not,” he answered.

None of the strange trio had moved much, and the man emitted a feeling of not really knowing what to do next. Yet, he was in charge to do something. It was his ship after all. His gaze jumped from her to Mihawk and back to her, until he sighed and shrugged. His lips twitched almost apologetically before he added, “I better get them. They just went to bed, I guess they’re not asleep yet. Wait a moment.”

And then he turned to walk back from where he had come from.

When he was out of sight Perona dared to move again. The tension in her didn’t vanish but she felt like she could breathe a little more freely now. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t sort out which of the many questions she had in mind was the most urgent one. So she rather inhaled deeply to smell the scent of the sea breeze.

“When I guessed we were heading for a ship, I didn’t have this one in mind,” she said eventually. To her own surprise her voice sounded even and almost a little reproachful.

“No,” Mihawk replied slowly and then smiled, as he closed the distance between them. It took away the last bit of tension that had been in the air. His slender fingers brushed a strand out of her eyes, caressed her cheek. “You’d be insane if you had.”

Even though there were so many things that swirled in her mind, Perona couldn’t gather the energy to speak. Instead she enjoyed the silence that surrounded them and leaned into the chest that was so close. Arms wrapped around her back and held her, while hawk-like eyes tried to see something in the dark distance.

Steps announced someone was coming, again. This time it was more than just one patter of feet and Perona knew she would finally get to know Mihawk’s captain. Straightening, she waited to see Redhair Shanks, the one who had stopped the war, the tall and frightening figure the newspaper had spoken of in hushed, mysterious words. She was almost disappointed to see a man who was not even as tall as Mihawk, with droopy eyes and a white shirt that was just loosely placed around his shoulders. Yet, she had to admit his red hair was amazingly vivid, even though it was tousled up. Besides the three parallel scars it was the most prominent feature of the man.

Close behind him stood a man who was maybe as tall as Mihawk, with silvery hair and an edgy face. The first thing she took in was a x-formed scar on his temple which gave him an intimidating look. A lot more intimidating than Shanks was. It didn’t take long for her to get that this was Benn Beckman, the famous tactician and first mate of the Redhair Pirates. His name was almost as famous as his captain’s.

Both looked at Mihawk and then at her. A shiver went down her spine when Shanks’ gaze met hers. Something deep was hidden behind those eyes, something that gave a hint of why he held the bounty he did. His voice was a little raspy and told he had been woken up.

“Mihawk…,” he said, but his voice trailed off and his head turned to look at her, before he went on speaking. “We should go in. Yasopp prepares drinks.”

Even though Perona was glad that they would get out of the cold, she had the feeling that something was off. But she followed the men when Mihawk did so, too, while pulling the blanket she still wore a little closer.

They led them into the ship, under deck. At first Perona tried to remember the way, but each hallway looked the same and only little light, given by some lanterns here and there, illuminated where she was going. No sound sounded through the walls and highlighted that none of them spoke. Only their feet on the planks made noise. Then they rounded a corner. One door stood open and light, as well as rustling, told her someone was inside the room. Just before they could enter it, the other man that had greeted them first, stepped out. Shanks nodded at him, even placed his hand on his shoulder and told him his thanks, before the man scurried off. He probably had to return to do the night watch.

“Get in, sit down,” Shanks spoke into the silence and Perona almost jumped at his voice. No matter its warmth it startled her after so much silence. Still, she stepped in, after Mihawk did, and was surprised to see a comfortable couch, some armchairs, a coffee table with drinks and some cookies on it, as well as different shelves filled with books and boxes that looked like they contained games. Was this the Redhair Pirates’ living room?

A soft click from the closing door distracted Perona’s thoughts and she turned to see Mihawk stand in the middle of the room, staring at the two men who still stood close to the door. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move but his gaze spoke volumes. So many emotions Perona had never seen on him rushed over his face and it made her shudder. She knew Mihawk as a stoic man, yet all of this seemed like it had been washed away. Suddenly her heart beat faster, out of fear or shock or something else was beyond her.

She had wanted to sit, like Shanks had told them, but stood frozen in place. Her gaze wandered from Mihawk to the redheaded Yonko, who equally kept silent. Other than Mihawk’s, though, his expressions didn’t give away much and their breaths seemed loud in her ears. The third men, Benn Beckman, leaned against the wall carelessly, while he played with a cigarillo in his mouth that wasn’t lit. When had he gotten it?

“Will you finally say something?”

The warm voice thundered in her ears and her eyes were drawn back to Shanks who had spoken. By now a grin split his face, his smile soft but also a little amused. Everyone who dared to speak in such a tone to Mihawk usually lost their heads, but this man seemed to not know or not care about such bagatelles. But when instead of a curt reply a heavy sigh filled the room Perona felt even more surprised.

“Hello captain, I’m back,” Mihawk said slowly and Perona could almost feel how his body slumped down, all the stress that had kept him on alert relieved. With a few steps, Shanks closed the distance between them and pulled the swordsman into a hug. The sight shocked Perona, even though she had known she would meet Mihawk’s captain and even though she had known this was Redhair Shanks’ ship, it needed this moment of familiarity to connect the dots in her head and her heart. When she saw their embrace she realized it was truly the famous Yonko Shanks that Mihawk had dedicated himself to.

Benn was next to hug Mihawk and clap him on the shoulder, a smile softening the intimidating appearance he had given until now. While the two said Hello to each other, Shanks turned to her. “You must be the famous ghost princess, Perona. Welcome on board of the Red Force.”

A blush appeared on her cheeks and suddenly the woman realized she was still standing in the middle of the room. And how she must look, with her hair tousled up, a blanket over her shoulder and crinkled clothes. “Well, yes, thank you and I am,” she stuttered and wondered why her voice was leaving her at such a time. Usually she had no problem to speak up.

“Would you stop intimidating my ghost girl,” a familiar voice reprimanded and Perona could perfectly well see how Mihawk eyed the redhead dangerously. “Sit down, Perona,” he added while Shanks broke into a chuckle. It was all a little too much for the woman, who was used to people fear the piercing gaze. Though she was also used to people not speaking up like this to their supposed captain. Was all this a big charade to mock her?

Too confused to say anything, she did as she was told and sat down on the couch. The cushions were soft and invited her to sit back and relax. While she wanted to be on alert, it felt impossible when Mihawk’s warm and comforting body sat next to her. Leaning back, she followed Shanks’ and Benn’s movements with her eyes. The captain sat into one armchair, his first mate on the arm rest.

“I’m sorry I came unannounced.” Mihawk’s voice was firm, yet Perona could hear some guilt waver in it. But before he could go on, Benn spoke up. He took the unlit cigarillo out of his mouth and held it in between his fingers.

“You don’t have to be sorry to come home,” he said, and the words clenched something in her heart. Kuraigana was Mihawk’s home, wasn’t it? This was just a ship. A Yonko’s ship, for sure, but still a ship. She didn’t even realize how she stiffed, until Mihawk stroke her leg soothingly. Two pair of eyes fell on her worriedly.

“Calm down, Perona.” The words were meant to sooth her but this time it didn’t really help. It had been hard enough for the woman to realize that Kuraigana meant so much to her that she didn’t want to abandon it. How was she supposed to stay calm, when someone she didn’t know stated that it was not what she believed it was? At the same time, it appeared to her, that Kuraigana meant nothing without Mihawk on it. He made it to her home.

“But Kuraigana…,” she started. It needed all her effort to gulp down the lump that had formed in her throat. It was hard to hold back the tears. Mihawk however finished her sentence.

“Kuraigana is a nice place to live on and I always loved to live there. But it means nothing without the right people by your side.” His voice was genuine, but firm at the same time. “This is my home, because my captain decided to live on this ship.”

“Then why don’t you live here?” she asked almost desperately. She was deeply hurt to have believed she had found a place she could settle at, which was now taken from her. It felt like the floor she stood on was vanishing and she was falling into a deep black hole.

She was too focused on Mihawk, her upper body turned to him as her eyes pierced his with all the sudden shock and hurt, to realize Shanks wanted to say something. Instead it was the swordsman who spoke, and his sigh crawled under her skin, with all the hidden pain it revealed.

“Sometimes you can’t always have what you want. There is more at stake than just my happiness.”

The words didn’t and did make sense to her and slowly she settled back into the cushions, to let the soothing movements at her leg ease her back into a state of relaxation. Hadn’t it been the same with her? Only the permission of Mihawk had made Kuraigana to her home, because she wanted and needed Mihawk’s acceptance. Did it matter where he lived, as long as she could live with him? She had once called a ship her home, she could again.

“Why are you here?” Again, it was Shanks who broke the tension and even though his words could have been mistaken for harsh, his voice wasn’t. It was soft. So soft she wondered how this almost too gentle man had been able to become a Yonko, and stop the war at Marineford.

“Someone asked me to be her captain and I had to refuse that,” Mihawk answered almost bluntly. It made Perona snort, while Shanks started to chuckle. Benn only rolled his eyes at it, but Perona wasn’t sure if it was due to Mihawk’s words or their captain’s reaction. She watched him get a glass and a bottle of water, to pour himself something to drink.

“Why’s that? I bet you’d make an awesome captain,” Shanks replied after his silent laughter abated, the mocking heavy in his voice. Now it was Mihawk’s time to huff, while Benn sighed and Perona just wondered in what kind of show she had gotten herself into. To make her a loss for words was hard to achieve but this redheaded man seemed easy on the task.

Pushing herself a little closer to the edge of the couch, she tried to get a grip on it. “Shouldn’t you be mad?” she asked. Shanks just smirked.

“Mad? Na. It’s not your fault you didn’t know he’s a Redhair Pirate. Also, with such a stick up his ass I wonder how he even managed to make you ask him,” Shanks replied and out of the corner of her eye she saw how a vein on Mihawk’s temple pulsated angrily. But it needed Shanks’ sly smirk to make the other draw his dagger in his necklace and throw it at his captain.

The movement was so fast, she barely recognized it. A shriek escaped her throat and it took a while for her to realize that nothing had happened. Well, nothing other than Benn holding the dagger at its blade between his fingers, while he had not even spilled a single drop of the water in his glass.

“I do not have a stick up my ass,” Mihawk growled and Shanks smirk grew even wider.

“You wanna fight?”

“I do not fight a cripple,” he stated angrily, and Perona could see how the redhead started to pout. She blinked, but the Yonko kept on pouting which proved she wasn’t dreaming.

“I don’t fight my captain as well. Get it in your head,” Mihawk added as a response to the expression he saw on Shanks’ face. His arms crossed in front of his chest. “We all know you’re stronger than me. I do not need a beating at one in the morning.”

“Wait?” Shocked at the content of the little banter Perona couldn’t hold her voice. It made Benn halt in his movement to throw the dagger back to Mihawk. Her gaze went from said swordsman to the redheaded Yonko back to Mihawk. “But you’re the world’s best swordsman. He’s not supposed to be stronger than you.”

Sitting a little straighter, Mihawk turned to Perona. His eyebrows were knitted together in a lecturing way. “Perona, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’re sitting in this room together with a Yonko and his first mate. If the two wanted me dead, I would not stand a chance.”

“But your title…,” she pleaded, suddenly feeling cold by what he had said. It was hard to believe these two men should be able to defeat Mihawk. She knew what he was capable of. In addition, it didn’t match to imagine Benn or Shanks could kill a man. It didn’t make sense to her. They seemed too friendly for it. Automatically she drew the blanket closer around her frame.

“His title belongs to him, because he is the better swordsman,” Shanks interrupted her thoughts and her gaze was drawn to him. He sat straight in his chair, and something glimmered in his eyes. They had a nice hue of brown, like hazelnuts or chestnuts. “I never went down the ways of a swordsman. I was taught sword’s fighting to protect myself and the ones I love. I solely draw my sword to kill…”

“That is not true,” Benn said defensively and placed the glass on the small table to have a free hand. He took the liberty to draw circles in Shanks’ back and massage his shoulder.

“It’s true enough.” The bitterness in his words shocked the ghost woman. A moment ago, she had believed this man to be unable to murder someone, just to be told otherwise. Yet, the way he spoke about it showed her he didn’t like what he had been forced to do. To protect himself and the ones he loved… being a captain seemed a burden, too.

For a moment, everyone listened to the silence, before the curiosity of Perona won over her shock. After all she was sitting with a Yonko and his first mate in one room and was still alive. She doubted that would change anytime soon, so she believed it safe to go on with her questions. Wasn’t that why they had come here in the first place?

“So you two would definitely beat Mihawk?” she said slowly and placed her chin on her hand, while her elbow rested on her knee. “Like… just like that, with no effort?”

Laughter exploded in the room and drowned the grumble that was a reaction to her question. Gazing sideway, she eyed Mihawk who rubbed his eyes but no protest came from him, so she assumed it had been okay to ask.

“No one beats Dracule Mihawk just like that,” Shanks stated almost proudly after his laughter subsided. Benn simply grinned.

“He’s the world’s best swordsman. You don’t get that title for nothing,” the first mate added and finally threw the dagger back into Mihawk’s direction, who gripped it out of the air. A little click announced it was back in place around his neck.

“You two are too humble for your own good” was his reply and he turned to Perona, while he ignored the other two for a moment. “Remember what I told you about Haki?” he asked, and she nodded. That day he had called not only for Zoro but for herself, too, to tell them everything about Haki. It was a day she wouldn’t forget. Mihawk recognized the nod and continued. “Shanks does not only contain Conqueror’s Haki, next to the other two forms, he also is able to wield it in any imaginable way. And some ways not imaginable.”

“But…,” she wanted to protest, not really able to imagine this man, who obviously loved to laugh and smile, be able to have Conqueror’s Haki. Yet, her words stuck in her throat when a force in her mind narrowed her vision down to a minimun and pressed her down. Instinctively she tried to fight against it, but knew it to be futile. When her head darted to look at the redhead, all she saw was his friendly smile. Cold fear rippled down her spine, at the paradox in his doing. A small hint of his power sunk through to her mind, and it appeared to her why he was feared by so many. Somehow it wasn’t so far-fetched anymore that he had stopped the war.

Before she went completely unconscious the pressure vanished and her sight cleared. She had slumped down a little and Mihawk’s hand was at her back to steady her. Piercing eyes fixated Shanks, but the man just shrugged.

“It was needed,” he said casually, but Perona heard the heaviness behind his words and she knew he was right. It had been needed, else she would have never believed Mihawk’s words, which was a fatal mistake. To underestimate this man did no good and Shanks knew it. For her own safety, this had been needed.

“It’s okay. I’m fine, Mihawk. Go on.” She pushed herself back up and caught Benn’s smile, which looked like he wanted to tell her he approved of her behavior. It sparked her interest enough to forget the dizziness and wonder why this man was Shanks’ first mate. People called him a perfect tactician. But what did that even mean? Especially on sea?

Tension vanished and Mihawk leaned back into the couch, but his hand stayed where it was, behind Perona’s back. She took the opportunity to lean a little closer on him. It was nice to feel his warmth, even though he obviously didn’t approve of her curious nature right now.

“I don’t get you,” Mihawk mumbled into her hair, before he spoke louder again. Perona’s curiosity wasn’t satisfied and Mihawk hadn’t finished his speech. “Benn’s the smartest person I know. He’s a marksman, and able to control Observation as well as Armament Haki, but that is not what you should fear him for…”

Perona saw Shanks raise an eyebrow at that, while Benn himself didn’t move. It was enough for the swordsman to halt in his sentence.

“Okay maybe it is something you should fear him for, but – and everyone in that room knows that very well – what makes him frightening is his ability to outsmart everyone.” Mihawk ended his little speech stoically. It amused Perona to see Mihawk’s countenance shaken.

“Does that mean I can ask him something and he knows the answer?”

It was still hard for the woman to get it. She knew that people were smarter than others, hell she wouldn’t say she was dump herself and she knew several people that didn’t reach her wits. But she had to admit that there were also people she didn’t match. But everything had a limit, right? Mihawk, however, seemed to see things a little differently.

“No, it means that he knows the answer before you even ask.”

“How is that supposed to work?” Perona shook her head confusedly. The only explanation that made sense should be impossible, even with good Observation Haki. She had never heard of something like it before. “That sounds like-“

“Like I can read minds?” Benn interrupted her with a friendly smile and Perona’s face fell, surprise written all over her features.

“Yes, but that’s-,”

She was interrupted again.

“Impossible? I guess it is, or so I hope. But to guess what another person does, says or thinks is influenced by many things, and only little of it is thinking ahead.” Benn’s voice was even, almost as if he was giving a lecture and Perona was his pupil. “Your concerned face gives away much. The way you narrow your eyes speaks of disbelief. Your mouth is tight, a thin line. It reveals you don’t want to accept what you obviously see. Your body is tense, your fingers grip your blanket since a while now and you seek comfort in Mihawk’s presence. However you also feel comfortable enough to solely focus on me as I speak, which gives hope that with some convincing you can feel comfortable around us. At least I hope so.”

With every spoken word Perona realized Benn to be right and automatically tried to stop doing what he had pointed out. It was useless and Benn very impressive. Not that she fully understood why he was a tactician, but she indeed could accept that he had a fine sense of observing people.

“I’m not sure if this all speaks of your intelligence, but I will keep my expressions in check,” she answered and lifted her head, to appear a little more lady-like and not like a scared, or shocked, or surprised kitten. It made Benn smile.

“Don’t. It’s not my intention to read you, or anyone that crosses my way. Also, I apologize for interrupting you. That wasn’t very gentleman-like,” he said and then smirked. “Which also doesn’t speak of my intelligence as you stated, but at least I know how to be polite.”

The smugness in his words allowed Perona to remember she faced pirates, no matter their friendliness towards her. Despite the mockery the apology still felt sincere and made her wonder how an intimidating and rather rough looking man like Benn had gotten so fine manners.

“Then how will you prove it?” she asked, leaning forward, as her curiosity took over. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mihawk regarding her, while Shanks leant back in his stool, grinning. The first mate had never really stopped massaging his shoulder, and for a moment Perona wondered what kind of relationship the two had. The thought was gone when Benn spoke again.

“I don’t know. There are a lot of different aspects of intelligence. What matters is the importance for you to prove whatever you want to be proven.”

The answer left Perona wonder what she would accept on his part, to prove what she needed to see to believe. It confused her, and somehow made her realize that this man indeed must have some kind of great intellect to choose the right words to keep her mind spinning like this. But she had started it, so she would keep on going. Tossing ideas back and forth, she decided to go with the most stupid altogether.

“Fine then. If the sea and the devil fell in love, what would happen to me?”

For a moment, there was silence, but then Benn broke into a fit of laughter, which irritated the girl. As she regarded the redhead and Mihawk, though, she realized it wasn’t only her who was irritated. What was so funny about her question? She couldn’t quite grasp what ran through the first mate’s head and that confused her. It made her snap a little and she crossed her arms before her chest. “I meant the question real.”

“I know,” Benn managed to say through his dying down laughter. The grin on his face stayed, as he regained his calm. “I didn’t want to offend you. I just expected a totally different question.” A sparkle gleamed in his eyes that showed he quite enjoyed their little conversation. But it was still genuine and Perona knew he didn’t look down on her.

“But to answer your question – if the devil and the sea fell in love, I guess you could swim. Bad enough they never had quite the good relationship. May I ask which Blue you come from? I didn’t hear the tale in ages.”

Perona hadn’t expected the man to be able to answer her question so accurately. It seemed he knew the story the question was based on. It was an old one about the genesis of the devil’s fruits. She had heard it in her childhood more than once. The warning held in it to not eat a devil’s fruit had been blown in the wind at the age of ten. Well, she never had been good in following rules.

“I’m from South Blue,” she said and then shrugged, “But spent most of my life on Thriller Bark. Too much sun on that damn island.” Her childhood didn’t bore the nicest memories for her.

A simple smile told Perona Benn was satisfied with her answer. Her attention shifted to Shanks when the man leaned back and therefore his first mate’s hand slipped on his chest. They entangled their fingers and again, Perona wondered if this was a simple captain and first mate relationship. She would ask Mihawk later, when they were alone.

“You two should sleep here, today,” Shanks said, the question time apparently over. Next to her Mihawk stiffed at the words. Before Perona could turn, Mihawk had straightened. He still sat on the couch, but his back was bent forward, turned towards his captain.

“That is-,” Mihawk started but was interrupted by Shanks. The tone of the Yonko was sharper than Perona had imagined it could be.

“not debatable, Mihawk. You two sleep here, tonight!”

Mihawk stiffed, tension almost visible in the way he sat, looked, controlled his facial features. In every line of his face was a scowl he didn’t dare to show and Perona realized what a power Shanks had over him. She had always believed Mihawk to be free, but today had truly shaken her view. Commands given to him by his captain were followed. Even Mihawk headed that chain of command. Yet, she couldn’t complain too much. An ache in her back reminded her she had slept in a chair and she preferred a bed over it.

As if Shanks had read her mind his gaze wandered to her. It was followed by Mihawk’s, who regarded her, before he sighed. The tension drained from his shoulders and he nodded. As if he had realized he was not traveling alone. As if Shanks had known she preferred to sleep here and Mihawk had forgotten it. If her trail of thought was to be correct, she had to admit Shanks to be an extraordinary captain.

Mihawk stood and rubbed his face with his hands. Exhaustion was palpable in the air and Perona looked forward to a good night’s sleep. Following Mihawk’s lead she stood as well, and smoothed out the blanket still around her shoulder.

“We’ll have to leave early, if we sleep here, so we better go to bed,” Mihawk said quietly to Perona and despite the ease with which the words had been said, they sounded off. Something broken wavered in the lilt of Mihawk’s voice that caused her to stop. With furrowed brows she tried to get behind it, and therefore didn’t realize the solemn gaze from Shanks and Benn.

“Why do we have to leave early?”

The simple question met silence, Mihawk’s lips a thin line. Even without his hat his eyes seemed hooded and something inside Perona grew cold. She took a breath.

“Mihawk!” she insisted, knew her voice bordered at the edge of demanding. Demanding in a way that was close to her earlier years, in which she had seen herself as nothing other than a princess whose wishes were to be fulfilled. But she wanted to know, she needed to know. A part in her knew the answer was important.

The silence stretched, until Mihawk spoke with a cold voice. Colder than before. As cold as he hadn’t been since they had anchored at the Red Force. As cold as he hadn’t been since she had landed on Kuraigana.

“The crew doesn’t know I’m a part of the Redhair Pirates. Only the officers do.”

Every word felt like a slap to Perona and she stared at Mihawk with wide, dark eyes. That couldn’t be. Hadn’t he… her world view was shattered, again.

“But you called this ship your home,” she stated incredulously. Simmering anger started to bubble in her stomach. If Shanks’ crew didn’t know about Mihawk, they saw him as a simple Schishibukai, a threat and enemy. He wasn’t welcomed here. The men under Shanks likely hated him, men that were supposed to be his friends. Men he protected by wearing a mask every single day. It had only been a short insight to Mihawk’s feelings, but the familiarity and the way he had dropped his guard showed Perona how much this place, these men, meant to him.

“Yes,” Mihawk stated and it was enough to make Perona swirl around. Satin fabric stroked her legs when she moved towards Shanks who still sat in his armchair, Benn behind him. Their expressions were as neutral as Mihawk’s and it fueled her anger further. How could they?

Without her conscience her hollows appeared, ready to fight, despite the lack of effectivity they would have. A simple woman like her didn’t stand a chance against a Yonko and his first mate, Perona knew. She knew, but in her anger she didn’t care about it. It was unfair to treat Mihawk like a criminal who had to steal himself from a place he called his home. It wasn’t Kuraigana, but at the moment it was the last thing that mattered.

“What kind of a captain are you?” she hissed towards Shanks, each word bringing her a step closer towards the Yonko. She fumed. “What kind of captain doesn’t tell his crew about a man who protects them? Do you want them to hate him?”

Because it couldn’t be any other way. For the Redhair Pirates – and fuck the few officers that knew – Mihawk was a footman of the marines. Not a part of them, not a friend, not even an ally. An enemy, a person to despise.

“He is part of your crew. I don’t understand why, but he is, and you kick his devotion with your feet,” she said, becoming louder with each spoken word. Behind her Mihawk hissed, “Stop it!” but Perona ignored him. “He considers this ship his home and you don’t allow for it to be. What kind of shit captain are you?”

By now she was so close to Shanks, that she could see golden spots in his brown eyes. Her hollows had surrounded the armchair, a clear threat. The man could reach out and grab her neck if he wanted, probably kill her in an instant. A part of her screamed at the stupidity, but the voice of reason was quieted by her feelings for Mihawk. By the anger and the unfairness of it all.

She expected a blow. What she got was guilt. Shanks’ shoulders slumped, and he averted his eyes while Benn had gripped the shirt of his captain tightly.

“You’re right,” Shanks said quietly, a murmur almost too low to understand. “What shit captain am I…”

“Wha..,” she breathed and the hollows disappeared.

Nothing of it registered as right and while Perona tried to gather her thoughts, Mihawk moved into view. His cold face had crumbled, and he looked utterly vulnerable in a way she had never dared to imagine. It was a lost look.

“It was my request to keep it hidden, Perona and I’d appreciate if you don’t insult my captain further,” he said, but his voice had no bite. The reproach was lost in the light of the revelation. Nothing made sense anymore.

“But, why?” she asked, almost pleaded. Her eyes flitted back to Shanks and now she realized he wanted to tell the crew, but held it from his men to head Mihawk’s request. A feeling of tightness squeezed her stomach, and she started to shiver. She had insulted a Yonko, unfounded even.

“I am sorry!” she whispered, but felt it wasn’t enough. To her astonishment, Shanks shook his head to wave it off. He seemed exhausted.

“Don’t be. You didn’t know, couldn’t know, and you’re right.” He looked at Mihawk but the man crossed his arms, his mask of indifference back.

“I will not change my mind,” he stated, and Shanks sighed, deeply.

“I know,” he said, paused and then said quietly again, “I know.” His hand reached for Benn’s and they touched, before Shanks stood, as well. “You won’t have time tomorrow and you should see him. Come! Benn will show Perona to your room.”

Mihawk nodded, and a moment later Perona watched the two men leave the room. It left her alone with Benn who hadn’t moved much, but now massaged his temples. The man looked as weary as she felt. Yet, questions didn’t stop haunting her.

“Who is him?” she asked, and it eased her to see Benn smile. It replaced a big part of his exhaustion on his face. Nodding to the door, he indicated for her to follow him. She did as she was told, and found herself walking next to Benn towards the dark halls.

“Him is Roger, Shanks’ and my son and Mihawk’s godchild,” Benn explained, his voice quiet but to not wake someone else. A part of her sensed that they were walking towards the sleeping quarters.

“So you and him are a couple.” At least one question was answered. Benn chuckled at her statement.

Strange that she didn’t question how two men could have a child. Benn had spoken with such conviction it didn’t left doubts that their son was both his and Shanks’ biological one. The Grandline sure was a strange place.

“We are.”

“That’s cute,” she replied and for a while they walked in silence. A few lit lamps showed the way and their steps echoed through the eerie silence around them. After a while they stopped in front of a door. Benn opened it for her and after the light was flicked on it revealed a cozy room, with a double bed, two nightstands, a big wardrobe, a mirror and a desk. In a way it felt inhabited, despite the lack of personal belongings.

“Is this…?” Perona asked and Benn smiled, nodded.

“The crew thinks it to be a guestroom, but the only person who ever slept in here was Mihawk. It’s his,” Benn stated and then sighed. The sound drew Perona’s gaze towards him. Wrinkles around his eyes and mouth showed his age and tiredness. “I... Shanks… We both want him to come home, we all want him to. I’m glad you’re with him, now. He was alone for too long.”

A plea reverberated with Benn’s words and Perona realized it for what it was. They wished for Mihwak to give up his cover and they hoped she could help convince him. While she wasn’t so sure about her influence on Mihawk, she wanted to try. Because Mihawk was obviously happy here and a part of her longed for his happiness. It was part of her own.

What did that mean for her?

“Benn?” she asked, still standing before the entrance. A nod told her to speak. “What do I have to do to join the Redhair Pirates?”

Surprise washed over the man’s face, but before he could answer, they heard steps. Turning, Perona saw Shanks walk towards them. The smirk on his face told her he had overheard the question.

“Asking me,” Shanks mused, when he had come to a stop. He regarded her and then nodded as if to emphasize his answer. It astonished Perona.

“But I’m not strong,” she admitted. She knew what she could and could not do. Her devil’s fruit helped her to stay out of the most trouble, but she wasn’t much of a fighter.

It seemed Shanks didn’t care about that, because he shrugged. “Does Mihawk train you?” She shook her head. “He should. You’re brave and loyal. You care for the people close to you and you are willing to stand up for them. Strength can be trained, courage not. If you want to join the Redhair Pirates, I’d welcome you with open arms.”

Gulping, Perona considered the words. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have stood up like she had today. Back then she had been bratty and loud and childish. Parts of her still were. But she had changed, Mihawk had changed her and she knew she didn’t want to leave him. Not anymore. Her heart ached at the thought.

But Shanks was a good captain. Better than Moria. Good enough that she wanted to join him.

“If I asked you, could I stay with him?“

“If you asked me, you’d have the same choice as Mihawk has,” Shanks said quietly but with determination. Leading a crew didn’t mean to force them, it meant to give them the right choices. Perona understood. “But I’m sure I would encourage you.”

Her eyes flickered back towards the room’s interior. If she joined Shanks’ crew this would be hers, maybe not this room exactly but a similar one. What she could call her own was a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and some stools. The clothes on her body, the few belongings that fit into one single room. Mihawk had told her Kuraigana would forever be her home, despite his presence. But did she want to live on an island, without company and too afraid to step on a boat, because falling into the water meant her death? Did she want to leave Mihawk, change his company for personal possessions?

She gulped, and dread filled her chest. It was dangerous to be part of a Yonko’s crew. Her life would change. Mihawk had been right when he had told her this trip would change everything she believed and treasured.

A bed, a wardrobe, a desk and some stools. Mihawk by her side, a protecting captain at her back and a home full of people. She turned, to watch Shanks and Benn. Her life wouldn’t change immediately. Until Mihawk decided to blow his cover she would stay at Kuraigana. It was as much her home as this ship could become. The blanket around her shoulders felt like the only protection she had against the on-coming future. It was warm and safe, an anchor to hold onto while her thoughts swirled.

The most dangerous she had done in her life had been to inhabit the castle of a Shischibukai. Well, no, that wasn’t true anymore. The most dangerous she had done had been to stand up for said Shischibukai against a Yonko. What could be more stupid than that?

“Can I join your crew?” she asked quietly. She couldn’t look away. Her eyes searched Shanks’ face, took in the edges and wrinkles, the scars, the lines of his mouth that turned into a smile. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Once she had been proud to be smart. Now she was stupid, played with her life and wanted to protect people close to her. People close to her...

She was so utterly and hopelessly in love it was ridiculous. It was the first time she truly felt this way. The feeling was liberating.

“Welcome on board, Ghost princess.” Shanks took a step towards her and leaned down, to press a kiss on her cheek and then whisper in her ear, “Welcome home!” The contact made her shudder.

She really had a knack for the dangerous!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perona's question for Benn is based on a fairy-tale I wrote for another (german) fic I've never posted. If anyone is interested, I consider translating the tale as it is able to stand alone. Just give me a shout.


End file.
